Thank you, everybody, for inviting me to speak at this very important meeting today. I'm going to apologize up front because I was invited to this meeting late last week and I haven't had due time to prepare as thoroughly as I would normally like to. I've written some speaking notes, but I am going to kind of wing it a bit as well. Please feel free to ask all the questions you want at the end.

I am Karen Pictou. I am Mi'kmaq from Millbrook First Nation, Nova Scotia. I am the mother of four daughters. I have three grandsons. I am the daughter of Bill Pictou and Philippa Pictou. I am the executive director of the Nova Scotia Native Women's Association. I came to this role three years ago. I followed my heart. I left a well-established career I had made for myself in first nation employment and partnership development and took a leap of faith to enter this role because I felt it spoke to my heart, it spoke to my lived experience and it spoke to what makes me feel good about the work that I do. I feel that I bring a lot to this position, not only from what I've learned in school or what I've learned in my career but also from what I've learned through my life. I am a Mi'kmaq woman who lived off reserve for my childhood, moved back on reserve, was a teenage mother, was a victim of sexual violence, was a victim of domestic violence, and also, as at least one person here knows, was a victim of human trafficking.

I feel that my life experience has brought me full circle to be in this role and to feel that I'm making a positive impact, not only for my community and for our province of Nova Scotia but for all indigenous women, girls and two-spirit people across the country.

I take this role very seriously and I have given it my all. When I came into this role three years ago, I didn't know a whole lot about the Nova Scotia Native Women's Association. I knew the gist, that they were an entity that spoke up for the needs of indigenous women in our province and that they have a long history. Since entering, however, I've learned so much more.

The Nova Scotia Native Women's Association is actually the third-oldest Mi'kmaq organization in Nova Scotia. Following the release of the “1969 White Paper”, there was a large political uprising of the Mi'kmaq in Nova Scotia. This led to the creation of our first Mi'kmaq organizations in 1969 and 1970, the Micmac News out of Membertou and then the Union of Nova Scotia Indians, which is now called the Union of Nova Scotia Mi'kmaq and is one of our two tribal councils in Nova Scotia.

During this time, the White Paper made it very clear that the Government of Canada wished to cause extinction of first nations people across Canada through policy. However, indigenous women across Canada were already facing this threat of extinction through government policy, through the Indian Act. This was not a new situation for the Mi'kmaq women of Nova Scotia, but it became a situation that impacted all Mi'kmaq people in Nova Scotia.

Even after the White Paper policy failed to go through, the political uprising continued, and so did the realization of our rights. However, during that time, indigenous women were still excluded from politics, whether within the province or on reserve. Shortly afterward, our first two female chiefs were elected in Nova Scotia. A community member from Membertou named Helen Martin travelled to each of our communities in 1970, gathered the women and talked about the issues of the day. All of the women agreed that something needed to be done to address these ongoing issues and the threat to indigenous women's survival, as well as their right to be Mi'kmaq, to be a part of our communities and to all that is held within that.

At that time, they agreed unanimously that they would create the Nova Scotia Native Women's Association. We were founded in 1972, so next year we will be celebrating our 50th anniversary.

However, despite the Nova Scotia Native Women's Association being one of the oldest and most highly recognizable Mi’kmaq organizations in the province, we continue to struggle and to be in survival mode.

About three years years ago, we finally received long-term provincial core funding and then, shortly after that, received a smaller amount of short-term federal core funds. The federal core funds have now been cut, to my understanding, despite the increase of capacity and the increase of work. The increase of work being asked of us by Canada is to assist with things like human trafficking, to assist with economic development for indigenous women and girls and to assist with healing our communities.

That valuation, however, has not translated into giving us core funding to take us out of survival mode and proposal-based funding. That needs to happen in order to address human trafficking. The Nova Scotia Native Women's Association is the only indigenous organization in Nova Scotia that is working to address human trafficking to provide support and services for those impacted by and currently in human trafficking, as well as for leaving it.

A number of issues cause us to be more vulnerable, including colonialism. That was the first one, right? That completely impacted the way our people lived and the way they viewed gender roles. Mi’kmaq people had very strict gender roles. That is not to say that women were less valued—certainly not. Women were highly valued, as were two-spirit people. However, colonialism changed that and flipped it on its head.

I'm sorry. I feel that I'm rambling a bit now. I'll get back on the topic.

In 2014, the Nova Scotia Native Women's Association opened the Jane Paul Indigenous Women's Resource Centre in response to a large number of indigenous women and girls who were involved in the street sex trade in Sydney, Nova Scotia. The population in Sydney is only around 25,000 people; however, there are at least 80 indigenous women and girls working on two city blocks in Sydney. This would amount to over 800 non-indigenous women on two city blocks.

This issue is glaring. We see it. We see these women all the time. However, I don't know that most of Sydney really and truly sees these women. They see them as an obstacle and want to push them further out into the industrial areas, and this is going to cause more harm.

The Jane Paul Centre is one of a kind. I don't know of one that exists anywhere close by in the Atlantic region. We started off from one office space in this little office that I'm actually sitting in right now. It's about 500 square feet. That's where we started. Over the last few years, we were able to expand to take over the basement of this building, which offered us some workshop space and a private counselling room. This year, we're actually planning a grand opening. We've taken over occupancy of 95% of this building, so we're able to offer the services where there were still gaps.

Some of those things still need to come to fruition. For example, there's the need to have a Family Court lawyer accessible to our women. Many of the women who are accessing the centre on a daily basis are being impacted by poverty, by the child welfare system, by grief and loss, and by the Indian residential schools, as well as being descendants of Indian residential school survivors. The first language of many of our women is Mi’kmaq, and they prefer speaking in Mi’kmaq. Many of them have experienced violence. Many of them have been impacted by MMIWG cases here in Nova Scotia.

They come in here faced with huge barriers, but with a lot of hope still, and here at the centre we thrive on that hope. We try to build that hope and we try to give them the tools they need to survive, to flourish and to have options. I think that's the biggest thing when we're talking about how to address human trafficking. We can get someone out of the life, but what options will they have? What opportunities will they have to sustain themselves to not go back to that life, to be able to have a secure home, to be able to fight to have access to their children again, and all of those things? If they cannot do that, I guarantee that they'll slip back into that life, despite its atrocities.

Here at the Jane Paul centre, we have a full-time counsellor on staff. We have program coordinators. We actually just opened up a new space, called a makerspace, where women can come in and make a craft. They can sit with an elder or a cultural support person. They can talk. They can learn new skills. When they're done making that, we actually buy it from them and we'll put it into our Sisterness Trading Post, which is right next door. That grand opening is happening soon and it's online, so I'll plug that later.

They can get money in hand right then and there to go and get what they need. They can go have a meal downstairs collectively. They can go to our food bank. They can take in a workshop. They can get clean needles. They can get condoms or whatever it is that they need at that moment.

The main thing is that they're taking in a cultural activity. They have a supportive environment and they're leaving here with food in their bellies and money in their hands so that they may not have to go back onto the street that night.

There are a variety of ways that human trafficking looks. Yes, human trafficking happens in the classic way of a charming man who comes and grooms a young girl and convinces her of this dream in the big city, and takes her off. Sure, that happens. That happens every day here in Nova Scotia. We see that.

It also happens many times to our women here as a result of being vulnerable or grieving or maybe being a product of the child welfare system. Maybe they have parents with addiction issues. Maybe they have a vulnerability from poverty, lack of housing or lack of education. They become prey to various things and then get into drugs and that type of thing.

They don't see themselves as human trafficking victims most of the time. They say, “No, that's my boyfriend. He loves me.” Would your boyfriend still love you if you said no, you weren't going to work the streets that night? Would you boyfriend still love you if you weren't paying for his addiction as well? Chances are the answer would be no.

It's very difficult for a lot of these women to even view themselves as being a victim of human trafficking. They feel they're making the choice. They feel that they've made their bed, so they'll lie in it, and this is the only choice they have. It's simply not true.

What we hope to do here is to find hope through hopelessness, not to isolate them and tell them they have to leave their boyfriend because he's harmful. No. It's to give them the tools to make that choice on their own.

I could talk on and on—

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